


Never Let You Touch the Ground

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-01
Updated: 2009-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world's all turned around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let You Touch the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[**inlovewithnight**](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/) for the beta!

  
Gabe watches everyone, smiling like a benevolent dictator, which is ridiculous given that it’s Pete’s party, and if anyone’s the big boss around here, it’s the tiniest guy in the group. Still, they’re his friends and band members, compatriots and partners-in-crime.

“What are you doing?” Pete asks as he settles on the stool next to Gabe and curves his feet around the legs.

Gabe shrugs and gives Pete a smile. “Just chillin’, you know?” Everyone’s dancing and singing along and the booze is flowing and there’s food everywhere. “It’s a good party.”

“A thousand of my closest friends.” Pete smirks a little and sighs. “Everyone’s having fun, don’t you think?”

“You worry too much. Don’t take yourself so seriously.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Pete laughs and bumps his shoulder against Gabe’s. “I read the press release. The Cobra wants you to tell hipsters to lighten the fuck up.”

“You’re not hip, dude.” Gabe grins back and reaches behind him on the bar for his beer. It’s just on the wrong side of cold, almost to warm, and it sweats condensation into his hand. “Still, it is a party. You could, I don’t know, smile or something crazy like that.” Gabe’s been told his grin is a little demented. He’s also been told he has a gorgeous smile – by his Tia Angela, so he’s not sure if that counts – and that he looks like a psycho killer. However it comes across, it gets Pete to smile. “But you know, if you want, we could have a private party.”

“Told you, dude. I’m married now. I don’t do that kind of thing.” Pete’s smiling, so Gabe doesn’t take offense even though it’s a complete fucking lie and they both know it.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a fucking saint.” Gabe snorts and takes another drink of his beer. “Besides, despite popular belief, not everything I say is meant as some sort of sexual invitation.” He shrugs and leans back against the bar. It’s too hot in the club, too many people and too much sweat. Gabe’s not sure why he’s on the sidelines, or why it feels this way, but it does. “I was thinking we could go back to your office.”

“Yeah, I can see how no one would take that as an invitation, and, by the way, don’t fucking invite people back to my office.” Pete’s eyes are still on the crowd, not watching Gabe. “I mean, I don’t go shitting where you sleep, do I?”

“You know, fuck it.” Gabe sets his beer down and gets to his feet. Whatever easygoing enjoyment he was getting from the party is gone, tangled up in words he can’t get to come out right. “I’ll catch you later, Wentz.”

“Hey.” Pete turns to watch Gabe as he starts walking. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I’m out.” Gabe lifts his hand in a wave and manages a small smile. “Have a good night.”

“Dude.” Pete slides off his stool and grabs his arm. “What the fuck?”

“Nothing.” Gabe’s smiling, but he’s tired. Tired of being on all the time, tired of not being allowed to just be _Gabe_ instead of whoever it is they all think he is. They’re not on tour right now and he thinks it just might be nice to not be a rock star for a while, not be on display. Of course, it’s Pete’s party, so he’s alone in that frame of mind, obviously. “My throat’s hurting, so I’m just going to go home and get some sleep, do what Ash said and drink hot tea with lemon.”

“She told you hot tea with honey.”

“Bees, man. They’re people too.”

Pete laughs softly and tugs Gabe into a hug. “Yeah, okay. Have a good night, all right? Don’t be a stranger while you’re in LA.”

“I’m strange no matter where I go, remember?” Gabe ruffles Pete’s hair and drops a kiss on the top of the ragged mess. “Night, Pete.”

**

“I know you’re awake, Gabe.” Pete’s voice is muffled by the door and by his knocking. Gabe rubs his tired eyes as he walks over to answer it, opening it and leaning against the wall, squinting at Pete.

“Which part of ‘go and get some sleep’ involves you bothering me at two in the morning?”

“Well,” Pete drawls, walking into the room and kicking off his tennis shoes as he sheds his leather jacket, tossing it over one of the wingback chairs before flopping onto the bed that’s still made. “If you want to make people believe you’re asleep, you shouldn’t twitter incessantly.”

Gabe shrugs and closes the door, padding over to the other bed. The covers are a tangled mess, a sign of the tossing and turning he’s done trying to fall asleep. He’s hot and cold, his boxer-briefs and t-shirt covered by his hoodie and a pair of neon yellow socks on his feet. “I’ll take that under advisement.” He rubs his eye again and picks up the cup of cold tea. “Tell Ashlee her home remedies suck.”

“Right. I’m sure it’s the tea and not the touring and not resting your voice post-surgery.” Pete makes a face and digs the pillows out from under the covers, punching them into a massive mound and then flopping down on them. “You look tired.”

“I am tired. I actually _did_ try to sleep.” He tugs the covers up over his legs and wraps his arms around his waist. “Fucking LA and fucking time zones.”

“Yeah, it’s not that.” Pete sighs and gets up, tossing the pillows at Gabe. Gabe bats them away in annoyance after getting smacked in the face with the first one, but Pete keeps piling them on Gabe’s bed. He smacks Gabe’s hand out of the way and then climbs under the covers beside him, leaning back on the white mass. “You know it’s okay to stop, right?”

“I am not getting this lecture from you. You of _all_ people. Mr. Never sleeps, works too hard, has seven million projects going at once, always on tour, and has a wife and kid. You don’t have any right to tell _anyone_ to slow down.”

“But as someone who’s _been_ there…”

“ _Is_ there,” Gabe interjects.

“It’s okay to be tired, Gabe. It’s okay to sleep. It’s cool to take some time out for you. Seriously, I was impressed when you left the party. You were sort of my hero. At least until my phone went fucking crazy from your texts.”

“This is like the pot calling the kettle black while it’s busy getting a new coat of paint.” Gabe blows out a breath. “So, O Wise One, what do you suggest? Booze? Sleeping pills? Slamming my head into the door until I pass out?”

“Fuck, dude, if I knew, _I’d_ fucking sleep.” He shifts more onto the bed and reaches for Gabe, pulling him back against him. Gabe resists at first, but for a little guy, Pete’s fucking strong when he wants to be. “C’mere.”

“Pete…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Saporta. Quit being a class-A dick and relax, would you? No wonder you can’t sleep.”

“You know you’re not the boss of me in the real world, right?” Pete sighs and shoves Gabe hard, sending him sprawling on the bed. He starts to get up, anger churning restlessly like the rest of him. “Oh, fuck you, you…”

Pete straddles Gabe at the back of the thighs and plants his hands on Gabe’s shoulders. “Shut up and relax.”

“Cold day in fucking hell,” Gabe growls.

Pete’s fingers curve and tense and dig into Gabe’s skin and Gabe has to groan. Pete puts more pressure on his back, his weight settled heavily, grinding tight muscles together. “Shut up and relax.”  
Gabe nods and turns his head so he’s not suffocating in the pillow as Pete’s fingers poke and prod and dig at his skin. It’s not an artful massage in any way, but Pete knows just where the tensions coil up under Gabe’s skin, and he rubs at them until Gabe’s writhing in pain beneath him, pushing him just to the point where he thinks he’s going to turn over and knock Pete into the hallway when the muscles give and melt under the heat.

When Pete tugs Gabe’s hoodie back out of the way and kisses the back of his neck, Gabe shivers. He’s not completely relaxed, but he’s a damn sight more than he was, and it hurts enough to feel good. “Thanks.” His voice is gruff and raw, the host of sounds he made under his breath, the curses he muttered like a fucking gypsy in a sideshow scratched into his throat.

He misses Pete’s weight the moment it’s gone, even though it just shifts beside him. Pete flops on the bed and rests his head on Gabe’s shoulder. “Better, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gabe smiles and closes his eyes. He’s almost relaxed – though nowhere near asleep – when Pete pulls away and gets to his feet. Gabe blinks at him, yawning wide enough that it feels like he can swallow the world whole, watching as Pete goes to the window and looks down at the street. Gabe sits up and tugs the hoodie off and rubs his eye with the heel of his hand. “What’s the matter?”

“Too quiet.” Pete opens the window and LA rushes in. Horns and cars, sirens and voices, the distant rumble of planes at LAX and all the noises that make it just like New York, even though it’s completely different. Maybe it’s the polished smoothness of the sounds instead of the rough and tumble weight of the New York accent, or maybe it’s just that LA is never going to be home. “I’m used to the road. Buses and snoring and the smells you can’t get rid of or Bronx crying or Ashlee breathing or anything, you know? I can’t take the quiet.”

“It’s never quiet in your head.” Gabe knows the feeling too well. It’s probably why he and Pete get along so well. Wheels are always spinning and they’re trying so hard to be grown ups and Peter Pan all at once. It’s exhausting and exhilarating and somewhere between the two is this never land like a bubble they can’t break. “I breathe. And possibly snore.”

“You don’t snore.” Pete comes back to the bed, leaving the window open. There’s the faint hint of salt in the air from the ocean, and it smells nothing like the Atlantic. Gabe’s got the water on the wrong side of him, so he turns on his side toward Pete as he stretches out. “You do talk in your sleep.”

“Yeah? What do I talk about?” Gabe tugs the covers up over Pete as Pete undoes his jeans and wriggles out of them, kicking them until they slither off the bed. It’s not modesty, but it’s something expedient maybe, or maybe Pete just forgot he was wearing them until the covers provided the extra warmth. “Am I getting lucky in my dreams?”

“I don’t pay attention to you when you’re awake,” Pete reminds him, yawning and nudging closer, waiting for Gabe to raise his arm. Gabe does and Pete slides beneath it, head resting on Gabe’s chest, hand burrowing under Gabe’s shirt to splay on his stomach. “Why would I listen when I know you’re sleeping?”

Gabe laughs softly, and it sounds hollow, like an echo. His eyes are closed and his heart’s beating in time with Pete’s, their chests moving together in a slow, steady rhythm. Normally he closes his eyes and the world crashes down like a disaster movie, everything demanding his brain and his attention and the fires he has to put out flare to life higher and higher. “You didn’t have to leave your party for me.”

“I doubt anyone notices I’m gone.” Pete yawns and throws a leg over both of Gabe’s. “Besides, you looked like you needed a friend.”

Everything fades to background noise, faint white static that Gabe can almost ignore. “Ashlee’s going to kick my ass. She doesn’t have you around enough as it is.”

“She’s cool.” Pete murmurs, breath fanning warming through Gabe’s thin t-shirt. “But you have to come stay with us if you’re going to keep this up. She’s not letting me spend _all_ of my time off in bed with you.” Gabe tightens his arm around Pete and holds him closer, breathing against the top of Pete’s head. “Though I’d totally let her kick your ass, you know.”

“I know,” Gabe whispers, letting it all wash away. “Hell, I figured you came here just to give her a reason.”

“Yeah,” Pete laughs, his own voice soft and faded with sleep. “Like she needs _another_ one.”  



End file.
